


Stray Arrows

by knightswatch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Kisses, Getting Together, Implied abuse, M/M, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 19:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5387390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shrugs his shoulders, turning his face away slightly. There's a bruise half-way up his arm that Yahaba knows isn't from making receives, and he tries his best to resist the urge to comment on it, stretching his legs out with a little hum. “You're kinda hard on yourself, aren't you?”</p>
<p>“I don't think so,” Kyoutani responds after a moment, cocking his head as he looks back over, eyes narrowed like he doesn't trust the words leaving Yahaba's mouth. “You gonna tell me I'd do better if I came to the teams practices more often before?”</p>
<p>“Doesn't matter, does it?” He smiles, just a little. “You're coming now.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he snorts, looking down at his legs again. “Beats doing anything else after school, I guess.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray Arrows

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Belated Birthday, Kyoutani! Late because I _hated_ the first thing I wrote and had to restart.

For a long time, Yahaba still isn't sure what to actually _make_ of Kyoutani. He starts showing up to practice and trailing after Iwaizumi whenever he seems to have a spare moment, and strangely never seems actually angry about being shoved up against a wall and shouted at in front of the whole team. He has a locker directly next to Yahaba's, and that's really when he begins to notice things.

At first, he dismisses the first touch of purple skin on Kyoutani's chest, his brain doesn't really take hold of the fact at all, just lets it pass by while he pulls a shirt on. But Yahaba isn't dense, and it seems like Kyoutani never really shows up without bruises on.

Maybe that shouldn't be so surprising-- he walks around like a fight waiting to happen, heavy brows and always scowling, but Yahaba has also yet to see him get more than just a little gruff with anyone speaking to him. He looks at Watari like he's some sort of alien creature, but tries every time the libero makes conversation with him. It stands out more when Yahaba notices that he always turns around when he changes jerseys in the gym, back to anyone who might look at him. Even more, when Yahaba pauses changing one afternoon, glancing at Kyoutani, wondering about the strange plastic smell that clings to his uniform.

But he doesn't _know_ Kyoutani, or at least, not enough to comment on these things directly. They've started planting the first seeds of a real partnership, doing spiking drills together during free practice, and sometimes Yahaba helps him with receiving when Iwaizumi is busy.

What he can't ignore is what he sees one Monday afternoon leaving school.

It's a nice enough day that he has his blazer draped over one arm rather than on, and he's surprised to see Kyoutani hanging around with two other boys near the gate. Yahaba tries to shake that feeling away-- he shouldn't be _surprised_ that Kyoutani has friends outside of the team. They had to be hiding somewhere.

Only, the conversation that floats toward him is not friendly.

“So, what is it the Volleyball club calls you now?” He's taller than Kyoutani, uniform a wrinkled mess, tie loose around his throat, with studs in the shell of his ear. “Mad Dog-chan?”

“Doesn't Stray Dog-chan fit him better?” The second one's grin makes Yahaba frown immediately, shifting his bag on his shoulder as he gets closer. “Looks like one, doesn't he?”

“Mangy,” the first one supplies, and it's impossible to miss the way Kyoutani's shoulders tighten, his hands balled into fists. “And no one wants him.”

Kyoutani actually cringes at that, tension climbing up his back, tucking his head down. Yahaba clears his throat before he can even begin lifting his fist up. “Kyoutani-kun!”

His head snaps around so hard and fast it looks like it must hurt, but Yahaba greets him with a smile, waving his arm like an idiot. “There you are! You said you were gonna wait for me.”

There's a dumbfounded look on his face, and for a moment Yahaba fears that he's not going to play along. But he rolls his shoulders in a shrug, turning his face away slightly, red staining the side of his neck and the tips of his ears. “You took too long.”

“Sorry about that,” Yahaba laughs, light and easy as he catches up to the three of them. He tries to channel the terrifying look he's seen in Oikawa's eyes before when he looks at the pair still grinning at Kyoutani, giving them a smile that's more a show of teeth. It's more rewarding than he expects when they both shrink slightly back, surprised. “C'mon, let's head home together.”

He sounds like one of the girls who follows Oikawa around, but there's a shine of confused relief in Kyoutani's eyes and at the moment he doesn't care. He turns towards his own house, and Kyoutani follows after him without complaint, grunting some kind of agreement.

His steps slow down when the school fades into the distance behind them. “You didn't have to do that.”

“Is that why you're always so beat up?” Yahaba blinks, rubbing the back of his neck when Kyoutani's face turns away again. Maybe it's still not his right to ask, but he clears his throat and continues talking anyway. “Because you're getting into fights?”

“No,” Kyoutani's response is so low that Yahaba almost doesn't hear it, and he sighs softly, gaze flickering back again like he's _scared_ to look at Yahaba. “I'm not gonna get into a fight with idiots like that.”

Yahaba decides not to point out that he looked exactly like he _was_ going to do that, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, whatever. You don't have to tell me.”

“I'm going home,” Kyoutani stops in the middle of the sidewalk, crossing his arms over his chest for a moment before starting to turn away.

“It's late,” it's not. “You should come over for dinner.”

He wants to tell himself he doesn't know why he offers, or maybe even to supply that it's _pity_. But that's not the case-- he feels compelled to make sure Kyoutani is taken care of. The thought that he's not getting bruised from fights, as unlikely as it seems, makes his blood feel cold.

And besides, he wants Kyoutani to know that he's not some unwanted stray mutt. Kyoutani snorts at that, not entirely turning back. “You should ask your parents about that first.”

“They won't mind,” he tries to make his voice softer, more reassuring and hopes that it's not a total failure. His lips quirk into a slight smile. “They'll probably pretty much adopt you, they love having my friends come over.”

He tosses the word into the conversation casually, and _watches_ it blow up in his face. Kyoutani's back goes tight, and he tries to duck behind the wide stretch of his shoulders. “I'm going _home_.”

He starts walking again even as he says it, slinking away like Yahaba's kicked him, leaving him confused the rest of the way home, frowning to himself.

 

He decides at the last moment before practice starts not to try and confront Kyoutani over being weird. Instead, he takes a slightly less active role than usual in practice, letting his eyes wander over to what Kyoutani is doing, and he starts to notice other things that make him-- concerned.

The worst is when Oikawa sets him the ball, a nice high arc like Kyoutani likes, and he spikes it clean out of bounds. This isn't really, such an odd thing for Kyoutani, still working to control the cannon that is his spike, but Yahaba can see something wrong with him as soon as his feet hit the floor.

“ _Shit!_ ” His voice comes out in a loud snarl, and even Oikawa looks taken aback, blinking slowly at him. “Why can't I get this _right_?”

“Ah, don't be so rough on yourself, Mad Dog-chan!” Oikawa chirps, reaching out like he intends to pat Kyoutani's shoulder. Kyoutani sees the motion and flinches back, teeth bared for a quick second, eyes wide like he was expecting something horrible to happen. Oikawa freezes, mouth open slightly around whatever reassurance he had on his tongue.

It's Iwaizumi, thankfully, that cuts through the tense moment. “Kyoutani-kun, take a break. You can drill with Yahaba-kun when you've cooled down a little.”

Somehow, it's worse when rather than snapping or arguing, Kyoutani shrinks a little further and nods his head, mumbling an apology for disturbing practice before slinking his way over to the bench. He drapes a towel over the back of his neck and hangs his head low between his shoulders, fingers flexing and releasing with a disjointed, frustrated rhythm. 

Yahaba gives him a few minutes to calm down on his own until Iwaizumi gives him a little glance and cock of his head. He doesn't bother to question the directions with Oikawa, who's still throwing little looks over his shoulder at Kyoutani, and nearly sets a ball into Kunimi's face because of it. He manages to correct the toss, laughing and rubbing the back of his neck when Kunimi tips it over the net. “Sorry, Kunimi-chan.”

He drops to sit on the bench next to Kyoutani, grabbing first his own water bottle and then Kyoutani's, passing it over and cocking his head to the side. “You alright?”

He shrugs his shoulders, turning his face away slightly. There's a bruise half-way up his arm that Yahaba knows isn't from making receives, and he tries his best to resist the urge to comment on it, stretching his legs out with a little hum. “You're kinda hard on yourself, aren't you?”

“I don't think so,” Kyoutani responds after a moment, cocking his head as he looks back over, eyes narrowed like he doesn't trust the words leaving Yahaba's mouth. “You gonna tell me I'd do better if I came to the teams practices more often before?”

“Doesn't matter, does it?” He smiles, just a little. “You're coming now.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, looking down at his legs again. “Beats doing anything else after school, I guess.”

“You should see my jump serve,” Yahaba chuckles, shaking his head. “It's pretty terrible, actually.”

“I didn't know you could _do_ a jump serve,” there's the smallest of smiles on his face and Yahaba shrugs.

“Oikawa's been teaching me,” he shrugs, rolling his eyes and laughing softly. “Though I'm still more likely to whack someone in the face rather than getting it actually _in_ the court.”

“So what? I shouldn't feel bad cuz you suck too?” Kyoutani's voice has less growl to it, even as he asks, and his smile quirks slightly further, enough for Yahaba to notice that he has dimples on both cheeks, set slightly uneven with one another. He has no idea why they stand out so much, or why his heart is suddenly beating faster.

“You shouldn't feel bad because you're working hard and getting better,” he, thank god, doesn't sputter on the sentence. Instead, he bumps his shoulder gently against Kyoutani's, glad when he doesn't flinch away from the contact, pushing himself up. “C'mon, you can receive some of my terrible serves.”

“Sure,” he shrugs, following after Yahaba with an easy pace. It doesn't take the two of them long to figure out that Kyoutani's receives are _far_ better than Yahaba's jump serves.

 

Come the next Monday, Yahaba beats Kyoutani to the gate but leans his shoulders against it, tapping away at a text message on his phone, glancing up from the screen when the pair he saw tormenting Kyoutani last week go walking by. He frowns slightly, but they don't seem to notice or recognize him, shoving at one another and setting off down the sidewalk, away from the direction of Yahaba's house. He's glad to see it, and when he sees Kyoutani _finally_ making his way over, he clips his phone shut and nods his head.

Kyoutani reels slightly, blinking and frowning at Yahaba, cocking his head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“I wanted to walk home with you again, but I don't have your number,” Yahaba shrugs as if it's a totally normal thing for him to do. Kyoutani doesn't seem to buy it because his eyes narrow and he ducks into himself slightly, defensive.

“Just because last week you thought--”

“Look,” Yahaba cuts him off, shaking his head and frowning. “You don't have to tell me what's going on with you-- if you're getting bullied or getting into fights or whatever. It's your business.”

Kyoutani scowls harder than usual at that and Yahaba shrugs his shoulders with a roll of his eyes. “I'm not asking. Just come study English and have dinner with me.”

“Fine,” he makes it sound like Yahaba has proposed some kind of terrible torment for the evening, and slings his bag over his shoulder with a huff, face turned away as they walk. “This is a shitty idea, though.”

“You can't be _that_ bad at English,” Yahaba shoots back and chuckles when Kyoutani tosses a thoughtless elbow in his direction, barely enough to even reach the edge of his arm and certainly not hard enough to hurt. 

As expected, only his mom is there when Yahaba gets home. He toes his shoes off in the doorway, leaning around it to smile and call a greeting into the house. “I'm home!”

“P- pardon the intrusion,” Kyoutani's voice is barely more than a mumble, and Yahaba cocks an eyebrow at him as his mom comes around the corner from the kitchen, a stained apron tied to her front and petals strewn through her soft brown hair. Her smile is wide, and she squeezes him into a hug before even speaking. “Welcome home, Shi-chan.”

“You have flowers in your hair, Oka-san,” he chuckles, shaking his head when she lets him go and nodding at Kyoutani. “This is Kyoutani-kun from my volleyball club.”

“Oh!” She pauses, a yellow petal pinched between two of her fingers, smile only growing wider. “It's nice to meet you, Kyoutani-kun! What position do you play?”

“W- wing spiker,” he grumbles out, gripping the edges of his blazer in both hands. She nods, smiling and picking another flower out of her hair. “'S nice to meet you too, Yahaba-san.”

“Hikari is fine! I'm just going to finish this arrangement up before dinner-- help yourselves to some food if you're hungry in the meantime,” she beams, warm and easy, leaning over to try and shake the rest of the petals from her hair with a soft laugh. “How do they even get in there?”

“She's a florist,” Yahaba explains, nodding Kyoutani in the direction of his room with a laugh, glancing over his shoulder as Kyoutani shuffles awkwardly behind him, leaving the door to his room open and digging his English notebook out of his back. He's surprised when Kyoutani plants himself in a corner with a little snort, dropping his bag next to him and shaking his head.

“This is _stupid_ ,” he huffs, and Yahaba cocks an eyebrow in surprise, sitting cross-legged with his notebook spread over his legs. He waits a moment for Kyoutani to continue, rewarded when he does rather than glaring at the paint on Yahaba's walls like he expects it to peel off from the force of it. “Why do you want me to be here so bad?”

“Because,” Yahaba answer primly. He hasn't put that much thought into it, really. He just doesn't see any reason why Kyoutani _shouldn't_ come over and study with him and have dinner on Monday's. He never sees him hanging out with anyone else, and as much as he wants to tell himself that he shouldn't care, it continues to eat at him. “Get your notes out and quit hiding in my corner.”

Kyoutani sighs, pulling himself over to where Yahaba is sitting and digging in his bag until he comes up with a battered notebook. The writing inside is surprisingly neat, with little blanks for his verbs small drawings taking up spaces in the margins. A lot of them, Yahaba notes with a small grin, are dogs, and honestly, they're better than he would have expected. He can't picture Kyoutani having the patience for the little details he's put into them.

“Do you have these conjugations?” He tilts his head, shifting his notes so Kyoutani can see them and pointing with his pencil. Kyoutani shakes his head, chewing on the end of his pen with a thoughtful hum from the back of his throat.

They continue going through them, Yahaba cocking his head to the side when he hears the door opening again. “Oto-san must be home.”

He doesn't miss the way Kyoutani's shoulders tense sharply, like a puppet jerked by a string, and he raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. He notices the slight tremble to Kyoutani before he opens his mouth to say anything, reaching a hand out and laying it gently on his shoulder. “Kyoutani-kun…?”

Kyoutani cringes and the motion of it crumples the pages of his notebook further, and for a moment when he looks back over at Yahaba there's a wildness to his eyes. It calms even before Yahaba snaps his hand back, frowning at himself and rolling his shoulders like he wants to shake off whatever feeling came over him. He doesn't seem to know what to say for a moment, settling for awkwardly smoothing his notebook out again, staring down at it. “Sorry.”

“It's… alright,” Yahaba responds slowly, not sure what to make of the reaction. Kyoutani remains sullen, teeth digging into his lip when Yahaba's mom calls the two of them to dinner. He considers asking if Kyoutani wants to go home, but decides against it as he folds up his notebook, resisting the urge to try and squeeze his shoulder or touch him again. “C'mon, let's eat.”

“Right,” Kyoutani pushes himself up, staring down for a moment before shaking his head and following Yahaba out of his room. Even when they sit, he grumbles an awkward greeting as his plate and spends a lot of time picking at his food. Again, Yahaba isn't sure _what_ to make of him-- he's used to Kyoutani being _quiet_ , but it has a different feel to it normally. 

Hikari must notice Yahaba glancing over at Kyoutani so frequently that he probably would have saved time with outright staring, tilting her head and smiling softly. “You're a second-year as well, Kyoutani-kun?”

He lifts his head from staring at his food, eyes round with surprise, nodding slowly. It seems, to Yahaba, an odd thing to be surprised by. Still, Hikari smiles, soft and warm as ever. “Do you have any ideas about what you'd like to do after you finish school?”

“I… wanna be a vet, I think,” he scratches at his cheek awkwardly, a small smile on his face. “I like animals a lot.”

“That's a good profession,” Yahaba's father nods his head, shifting his glasses with a smile. He's slightly older than Hikari, with dark hair swept neatly to the side and the same light brown eyes that Yahaba has, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Your parents must be proud of that.”

Kyoutani sinks slightly, red creeping to the tips of his ears as he shakes his hair. “They-- want me to join my dad's construction company.”

Something inside Yahaba's chest squeezes and he knocks his knee gently against Kyoutani's under the table, smiling at him, trying to be encouraging, at least, a little. “You'd be a really good vet.”

“T- thanks,” there's an actual flush on his face as he turns away, but Yahaba doesn't miss the smile that joins it. He seems to relax slightly like he's no longer expecting something terrible to happen. Yahaba doesn't get it, still, but he's glad to see Kyoutani brighten, the furrow between his brow easing up slightly.

It's also the point where Yahaba realizes he really, _really_ wants to kiss Kyoutani. It's a terrible, alarming, worrying thing that he tries to put out of his mind as soon as it comes in. Kyoutani doesn't even like it when Yahaba grabs his shoulder, there's no way he wants to be _kissed_ by him.

The thought won't leave him alone, and he's much quieter than usual as he helps clean up plates, waving off Kyoutani's attempts to help. He nearly drops a bowl because he's gotten the image of it stuck in his head-- cradling Kyoutani's face in both hands, rubbing the lines of his jaw, pressing their lips slowly together--

The bowl clatters as he tosses it into the sink, swallowing and rubbing the back of his neck, coughing into his sleeve as Hikari stares at him, a knowing smile on her face. “I- I'm gonna… walk Kyoutani-kun home, if that's okay.”

“That sounds just fine, Shi-chan,” she leans over, planting a soft kiss to his forehead and grinning against it. “He seems like a sweet boy, even if he is a little shy.”

Yahaba wants to deny that Kyoutani is either of those things though he's not sure that that's so true anymore. Instead, he waits patiently for Kyoutani to grab his bag and say goodnight to his parents, slipping his shoes on.

The air outside is brisk around his shoulders and Yahaba finds himself once again stealing glances at Kyoutani, this time with a little tendril of warmth curling in his stomach. He's surprised when the small beam of a smile falls of Kyoutani's face. “They don't want me to come back, do they?”

“What?” Yahaba blinks his eyes furiously, brow furrowing in confusion. “What makes you think that?”

“I'm not exactly the type that parents go crazy for,” there's a sardonic twist to his voice and he stuffs his hands into his pockets with a huff. “So I figured--”

“They like you,” Yahaba rolls his eyes, bumping their shoulders without really meaning to. Kyoutani doesn't quite cringe away, but his eyes flicker toward the contact, and to Yahaba's surprise, he presses back slightly. “My mom said you seem 'sweet', so at least you have them fooled.”

“A- are you sure?” He stops walking and it takes a few strides for Yahaba to stop as well, turning and cocking his head to the side. Kyoutani's face is tilted downward, and he's just out of the warm glow of the nearest street light, tugging at a thread on his blazer with a soft sound, words that Yahaba can't make out.

“Louder, Kyoutani-kun.”

“I _said_ , that I don't want you to bail on me because they don't like me,” he shifts, his words tapering at the end despite the venom that he starts out with. Yahaba hesitates, listening to his heart thud in his ears, taking a small step closer and reaching his hand out slowly. He stops before he actually reaches Kyoutani's shoulder, waiting for him to lean slightly into the contact, like an agreement to it. “We're good-- whatever.”

“They like you,” another beat of hesitation-- he watches Kyoutani's lips part slightly, slides his hand from Kyoutani's shoulder to the side of his neck and lets it rest there, feeling the thud of a pulse under Kyoutani's skin. “ _I_ like you.”

He doesn't cringe from Yahaba's slow movements, but in return he leans up so fast that he nearly rams his head into Yahaba's face, and the first kiss is more a bruising crush of lips together. But after a moment Kyoutani softens, lifts a hand to Yahaba's shoulder to keep himself balanced, and Yahaba tilts his head slightly to find a better angle, one with less bumped teeth and bitten lips.

It suits the two of them anyway, so he can't find it in himself to mind too terribly much.


End file.
